Childish Shenanigans
by BadWolfFile
Summary: Various young assassins being childish... so cute. Hehe shenanigans. Chapter 1 is young Altair. Chapter 2 is young Ezio in Venice.
1. Chapter 1: Altair steals a treat

The small boys dashed through the market, brown novice robes flapping around their little legs as they ran like mad.

"Come back here! Guards!"

The merchants' shout was lost in the crowd, as were the boys; they were young but they still knew how to disappear. The two continued running, ducking and weaving madly through the tangle of legs, knocking into people and leaving a path of angry traders behind them.

One of the boys slowed but the other grabbed his wrist and pulled him along as they shoved their way through the crowd. The pair struggled through the gaggle of merchants and housewives, eventually making it out of the crowded bazaar. The taller of the two jumped into a cart full of hay, pulling the other boy in after him.

They lay there for long minutes, hearts pounding, as they strained to listen for the heavy footfalls of the guards. The taller boy lifted his head from the hay, nose twitching as the dust tickled it, and peered through the gaps; his pounding heart skipped a beat when he saw a reflection off metal shining through the hay. He forced the smaller boy's head further down into the hay, ready to protect him, as he loosened his small knife in its sheath and hoped like hell he could do some damage before he was skewered.

He waited, but the metal didn't move; he carefully moved his head a little higher up, and saw that what he'd taken to be the helmet of a guard was in fact simply a polished pot hanging from the side of a market stall.

"Altaïr let me up!"

The taller boy realised he was grinding his friends' head into the wood and released him, muttering an apology as he shifted around slightly to try and get off of the pouch he was lying on.

The pair stayed where they were until they were sure there were no guards coming and then Altaïr popped out of the hay, much to the surprise of several passers-by. He turned and helped his smaller friend out of the place of concealment, setting him on his feet and then brushing him down carefully.

"Malik… do you still have the prize?"

The smaller boy nodded, a hand going to the front of his novice robes where a small bulge gave away their afternoons' activities. Altaïr gave a small smile; he'd often heard about it from the older boys, the ones who were allowed out to watch the masters at their work from the shadows.

"There! Those are the boys that stole it!"

The shout made them both drain of colour; clearly, the merchant wasn't going to give up his lost product without a fight. The boys turned to see him pointing at them and a pair of guards heading for them. Altaïr didn't hesitate; he grabbed Malik's hand and ran, cursing his own complacency. He knew how much their rare prize was worth, and yet he'd still allowed himself to believe that they would be safe.

The guards chased the boys, calling for them to stop running, but Altaïr knew it would be terrible if they were caught. He scanned around for a way up to the rooftops as he ran, pulling Malik along behind him, and finally spotted the way; boxes, conveniently stacked, with beams and poles leading up to an area lower than the rest.

Without breaking stride the boy dashed at the pile, leaping with the agility of a cat from box to beam to pole to rooftop. His friend followed, and the two scrambled up the side of the next building as the guards stumbled over the boxes and fell flat on their faces. The boys stopped and turned to laugh at the guards, who swore at the brats and looked around for rocks to throw; the boys disappeared from sight, heading over the nearby rooftops as they looked for somewhere safer to hide.

They found refuge in a small rooftop garden; the plants were well-tended but there was no one there for the moment. Altaïr checked over the edge of the wall one last time; there was no one around. The sun was about to set and he knew they would be chastised for staying out after curfew, but right then he couldn't care less.

"Ugh…!"

The boy looked at his friend; their stolen package was in his hands and it was oozing slightly. Hesitantly Altaïr took the package and opened it a little, the foreign smell washing over him. He poked it, and curiously examined the substance that came away with his finger; he glanced quickly at his partner in crime, who was staring at him with huge eyes.

"Here goes…"

Carefully he lifted his fingers to his lips and licked them, tasting for the first time true deliciousness. Malik watched him before stealing a finger-length of his own, licking it and making a face.

"It's a bit bitter."

Altaïr nodded.

"Good, though. It might be a little better on fruit."

The two continued to pick at the package interior, eating their fill of the strange product. Suddenly light footfalls behind them made them both look up and turn quickly; a young girl about their age stared at them, mouth slightly open, with a pot of water in her hands. Altaïr was up in a flash, dragging Malik to his feet, and they were over the edge of the wall in seconds, fleeing across the rooftops.

Behind them, the girl set down her pot of water and picked up their package. Delicately she sniffed it, and refolded it before tucking it into her waist pouch with a small laugh at the boys' expense: they'd left several months' wages worth of chocolate behind, much to her advantage.


	2. Chapter 2: Ezio finds his feet

Ezio Auditore da Firenze stared down at the festivities below, eyes shining in the dancing lights. His parents had brought the family to Venice for Carnivale, but the boys were confined to their house during the evening; two boys could get up to a lot of mischief in the dark swirling party that was evening Carnivale.

Federico slung an arm around Ezio's neck; the older boy made him break his gaze and winked roguishly.

"When our parents have left, then we shall have some fun!"

Almost on cue their father walked by adjusting his cape, stopping in his tracks to give his sons a suspicious look. He turned to face them fully and narrowed his eyes.

"I trust you two will behave yourselves this evening. No gallivanting around on the rooftops like you do at home, Federico. Your mother would die of shock if she knew…"

"Knew what, Giovanni?"

Their mother Maria circled around behind her husband like a shark, full skirt swishing. Giovanni's eyes widened for a moment, but his sons were as quick as little foxes.

"Knew that he was allowing us to stay up later than usual, mama."

Federico smiled as Ezio nodded, quick to agree with his big brother.

"That's right! And that he was letting us have as many sweets as we want."

Giovanni's eye twitched, but Maria just laughed.

"Ah my charming boys… if I didn't know better I'd think you were hiding something worse from me."

Giovanni kissed her hand.

"They're not hiding anything. Let me get my mask and I shall join you downstairs in a moment."

Maria moved off downstairs, blowing her husband a kiss as she left, and Giovanni turned to his sons.

"I'm allowing you get away with that, but you must not leave the house. The guards here will keep you safe, but if you leave I cannot vouch for your safety. Carnivale drives grown-ups mad, and I don't want to have to be pulling your bodies out of the canals tomorrow."

With a final stern look at his sons, Giovanni followed his wife downstairs and the boys were left alone.

The two of them ran to the front of the house, leaning against the windows to see their parents depart on foot, arms linked. Federico waited until they were out of sight and then spun on the spot, dashing down the hallway with his little brother following close behind.

"First stop is the kitchen for some sweets. I saw the cook making a big cake before. And then we'll hit the rooftops."

Federico leaped over the stairs, landing halfway down. Ezio stood amazed; his brother soared like an eagle with practically no effort. He stopped and looked over the banister, evaluating the distance; it seemed far too high for him to jump over. Quickly the younger brother moved around the railing and dashed down the stairs; Federico was already in the kitchen eating all the sweets.

The boys sat under the table eating chunks out of the cake. They'd managed to consume most of it when the cook returned from her errand; she looked at the two guilty boys under the table covered in cake, the cake itself mostly consumed and she saw red. It didn't matter that the two of them were the sons of her master; she grabbed the nearest wooden spoon and started to swing with a vengeance.

The boys scarpered, little hearts racing from a combination of adrenaline and sugar, and dashed out the kitchen door into the alley. The cook ran after them but only got halfway down the alley before she doubled over struggling for breath, still managing to wave her wooden spoon threateningly. Federico led the way, encouraging his younger and weaker brother to follow him with haste.

The older boy bounded up the side of a building like it was the easiest thing in the world, but little Ezio stopped at the bottom and stared up at it; it looked so high, and he was sure he was going to fall. Federico stopped halfway up and hung with one hand to stare down at his brother.

"Come on, Ezio! It's not that hard! Take a run up and just do it!"

The little boy watched his brother climb to the top of the building and found himself backing up; part of him _wanted_ to scale the wall and run across the rooftops! Unsure he closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them he was already running for the wall. With a cry he jumped and grabbed onto the nearest thing, a protruding rock, and hung onto it for dear life.

"Find somewhere for your feet to go!"

The words had barely left his brothers' mouth before Ezio was scrabbling at the wall, his feet strangely finding purchase. It took him a moment to steady himself but soon he was climbing the wall, all thoughts of falling and hurting himself gone; he was doing it!

Finally Federico pulled him up onto the top of the building and the two stood there looking out over the Venetian canals for a few moments while Ezio caught his breath. Federico looked at his brother and smiled.

"Well done, little brother. Follow me, and trust yourself."

He started running towards and edge but before Ezio could cry out in alarm he jumped over it, landing safely on the next building. He turned to watch and stumbled backwards as Ezio came flying over the gap too and managed to crash into him. Federico laughed and turned back, heading for the next gap; this one was a little tougher, requiring the boys to jump and grab the wall or risk falling into the canal. He jumped and scrambled up the wall, this time hearing Ezio follow him closely, and grumbled something about the boy being a quick learner.

The boys raced each other over the rooftops, jumping higher and longer each time. Finally they reached the edge of the district where the biggest Carnivale party was in progress; the whole scene was overpowering and Ezio hunkered down to stare at the stone in order to make his eyes stop hurting. Federico was scouting the party, and he clapped his little brother on the shoulder.

"Come, brother. Let's go and find some real fun!"

The two slipped down the walls like shadows and joined the party; no one noticed two boys stealing sweetmeats amongst the colourful chaos. Federico also took some wine, and they returned to their aerial perch to investigate it. Neither could see the appeal of the beverage, and so they dropped the bottle into the canal and laughed at the splash. Federico started throwing loose rocks into the canal to make bigger splashes; he'd had more wine than little Ezio and seemed to be feeling the effects more than his brother.

Ezio hunkered down on the edge of the building again a few metres away from his brother, staring at the ripples in the canal water. The moon was being distorted and reflected oddly, and the patterns of light danced more prettily than the drunken Venetians below. He'd barely opened his mouth to comment on it to Federico when the older boy was grabbing him; Ezio was thrown off the building and into the canal, making an apparently satisfying splash.

The water was dark and Ezio took a breath when he hit the water, lungs filling with fluid. He managed to surface and coughed out most of it before he went under again, flailing his limbs as he tried to return to the surface. His mother's voice entered his head, telling him to kick with his legs and stroke with his arms like she had done for the past four years while teaching him to swim, and he managed to coordinate himself enough to surface and swim for the edge.

Federico had dropped down and was looking extremely apologetic; he was hanging off an iron ring close to the surface of the canal, his hand stretched out towards his brother to help him out of the water. Ezio reached up and grabbed it, suddenly exerting downward pressure; Federico's arm couldn't take the weight and he fell into the water too.

The boys splashed around for a while, eventually getting into a splash war as they giggled. Finally the cold water started to have an effect and they had to find a way out of it, swimming off down the canal a little to find some steps. There was a young girl there, about the same age as Federico, holding blankets; she was costumed with a mask covering her face, and a masked woman stood behind her with her arms crossed.

Silently the girl offered the boys the blankets in her arms, curtseying when they took them and disappearing with the masked woman back into the drunken crowds. Ezio wrapped himself in the blanket, content to head home, but Federico insisted on spending some time looking for the girl to thank her.

The clock struck three, and the boys looked at each other; their parents would be heading home, ready to check that the boys had behaved themselves and were now sleeping quietly while the rest of Venice partied on through the night. Federico swore and Ezio paled at the curse; he'd never heard anything so vile, and he had to privately admit that he liked the sound of it. His brother grabbed him and ran for the nearest bridge, cursing quietly as he dragged Ezio towards their house.

"We're not going to make it!"

Federico stared at the steeple clock nearby, panic making his voice crack. Ezio didn't hesitate; he simply bounded up a wooden structure and climbed onto the roof. Federico followed, allowing Ezio to lead the way, and the two of them ended up across from their house within minutes.

Their parents were just strolling down the street with their arms around each other's waists. Federico looked panicked, but Ezio looked up: there was a convenient stretch of wire between their house and the one they were standing on. Quickly, without even thinking about it, the littlest boy dashed across the wire and leaned down to open the window below; it lead into the upper hallway, and he managed to swing himself down into it. Federico followed him more slowly, almost in awe of his little brother's newfound skill on precarious perches.

They didn't have time to change; the boys simply dashed to their own rooms and took off their shoes before sliding into their own beds and feigning sleep. Maria and Giovanni came to check Ezio first; his mother pulled the covers a little higher over him and brushed his still-damp hair back with a curious hand.

"Is it just me, my love, or does Ezio smell?"

Giovanni leaned closer and wrinkled his nose.

"Yes… he does. Like… like the canals."

His father glared at the apparently-sleeping boy, who doggedly continued to pretend to sleep. The parents checked Federico, who had had more time to prepare and was more convincingly asleep. This time it was Maria who wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"In here, too… Federico smells like wine. I must insist tomorrow that they both bathe thoroughly."

Giovanni nodded and watched his wife leave before leaning over his eldest son.

"I know what you and Ezio have been doing this night, Federico. I just hope you didn't let him fall."

He turned to go, but paused when he heard Federico mutter

"I'd never let him fall… but he found his own wings tonight."

Closing the door behind him the man smiled, proud that his sons were finally showing a little of the family trait; the itch that made them need to run, need to climb… and need to fall.


End file.
